


You Are Gone To the Trees

by AshesStarsAndRedStringsOfFate



Category: Adventure Time, Gravity Falls, Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon & Comics)
Genre: ALL THE ANGST, Angst, Beast Wirt, Bipper, Don't Post To Another Site, Fluff, Gen, Ice Finn - Freeform, evil author
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 17:13:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17964689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshesStarsAndRedStringsOfFate/pseuds/AshesStarsAndRedStringsOfFate
Summary: Three boys, demons or cursed, end up alone together in the woods. One of them needs to learn to face their past.





	You Are Gone To the Trees

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zobo900](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zobo900/gifts).



> For my lovely friend Zoe's birthday! Enjoy this angst!

It was an empty house, once upon a time. It was empty and cold, no scrap of joy or life in the old, broken-down, decaying oak walls. No creature dared to approach it, too intimidated by the sheer aura of rot and ruin that permeated the air around the house. No storm could destroy it. Fire would not burn it. Old age would not crumble it into nothingness. It was almost as if the universe itself wanted the house to stay standing. 

 

It was an empty house, until the boy came. A boy with one hand of pure ice and the other of clawed metal. The boy who once had flowing locks of gold streaming from his scalp, now which were choppy and lifeless. A boy with eyes as frigid as an Arctic glacier, whose eyes held the pain and suffering of entire worlds in their turquoise depths. He did what he could to fix the house. He froze walls upright, he patched holes with snow, he carved new furniture from blocks of ice. The boy of ice was lonely, but he did his best to make the old, abandoned house in the middle of the forest into his home. 

 

It was a lonely house, until the young man came. A young man with eyes of acrid gold, with sharpened teeth, and a predatory smirk. The young man who dressed for his own funeral at an age far too young to consider such tragedies. A young man who smiled to hide the pain and who bled to hide the other pain. He came and helped the ice boy with the house. He conjured food and cozy knickknacks, he shingled the roof so it would stay, he carved a new set of tables and chairs from fallen trees in the forest. The young man who walked with dreams was desperate, yet he did his best to make the old, lonely house in the middle of the forest a welcoming home for the both of them. 

 

It was an unstable house, until the Caretaker came. A lost soul shrouded in navy blue and white, with a tall red hat to warn off predators. The lost soul with multicoloured eyes that glowed at the slightest disturbance and antlers that showed the true emotions lurking in the soul. A lost soul who hid the pain behind a facade of apathy, who poured all humanity into a lantern fed with trees of oil. The Caretaker came and helped the other two with the house. The walls became stabilized, held up by new, healthy trees with strong roots. The interior filled out with all the furniture one could need, made purely from trees and surprisingly comfortable. The kitchen was now stocked with fresh, healthy food. The Caretaker wreathed in plants was sad and empty, so he did his best to make the old, lonely, unstable house in the middle of the forest a perfect home for all three of them. 

 

And so, the three of them worked. They lived and cohabitated and bickered and cried to each other. The desperate young man and the sad ice boy mellowed out and began to find small kernels of true happiness, which pleased the Caretaker. Life was getting better, for most of them, and that was all that mattered to the Caretaker.

* * *

 

“ _ Wirt _ ~! There you are!” Bill yelled. Wirt braced himself as the dream demon tackled him the second he stepped in the door, his arms loaded down with groceries. He had only been gone for two hours. Why Bill insisted upon greeting him as if he had been gone for a year or more eluded Wirt. Small stirrings of something bubbled in his chest, whispering  _ Greg _ , but he did not allow the stirrings any more power before brutally squashing them down. It was better this way. Who needed emotions? 

 

“Yes, here I am. Am I allowed to set down the groceries, or shall I allow them to spoil?” Wirt intoned, eyes swirling with glowing pastels. Bill just laughed and detached himself from Wirt, beaming that disturbing grin that was far too wide for his face ( _ just like Greg,  _ the voice whispered before he brutally shut it up again,  _ just like Greg _ ). 

 

“Nah, you can set them down. I’m just happy to see you, Tree Boy!” Wirt nodded, not acknowledging this at all, and glided into the kitchen, beginning to put away groceries in their proper places while Bill chattered on and on about something trivial that had happened while Wirt was away. Wirt hummed and nodded at appropriate times to cultivate the illusion of participation and attention and walked back into the living room, only to be tackled by Finn. 

 

“Wirt! You’re back! We’re having a movie night, we need to get ready for it, why are you still in your Caretaker clothing, come on, get moving-” Finn babbled, yanking Wirt back into his bedroom. Wirt merely sighed and allowed himself to be pulled along. He had learned long ago that it was easier to just humour Finn and Bill and go along with their crazed schemes stemming from the strange notion that the three of them were friends, family even, even though Wirt knew that this was extremely false. He kicked Finn out of his room and changed into the clothes that he had designated as his “Movie Night” attire. The soft dark red flannel pants, paired with an oversized navy blue sweater and tall black wool socks, only saw use when a movie night was called. Wirt would never admit, even on pain of death, but these clothes were extremely comfortable. He adjusted the binder under his sweater, took a steadying breath, tucked his lantern into its safe space after making sure it was fueled for at least the next day, and then exited the room, prepared to face a night of animated movies, junk food, and human contact. 

 

“Wirt! Come, sit in the middle, we’ve got your favourite blanket!” Bill called, waving his arm ecstatically. Wirt padded over and sat down, bundling himself in the blanket. Bill had made it, during one of his craft phases. The black blanket with the white trees and white moon had been made first, and while most of the stitches were sloppy, they were firm and held. Wirt loved that blanket. 

 

“What are we watching first?” Wirt inquired, voice flat. Finn beamed and held up a brightly-coloured DVD case, bouncing in his seat in excitement. Somehow, the cursed ice prince always managed to be cheerful, something Wirt did not understand but welcomed nonetheless. 

 

“Up! It’s this really good movie I heard about from the nice librarian in town? Xe think that you’ll like it, Wirt!” Finn chirped. Wirt nodded and settled in, clutching the warm mug of jasmine tea between his long-fingered hands. Finn put the DVD in, and all three settled back to enjoy the film. 

 

It only took ten minutes for Finn to be bawling his eyes out, and while Wirt was not feeling the same, he could understand why. Bill, for once, was not laughing, and was instead trying to comfort Finn. Wirt just kept watching the film, intrigued as to where they could go from there. Finn calmed down fairly quickly, and the trio once again settled in to enjoy the film. That is, until a certain Boy Scout was introduced. 

 

At first, Wirt ignored the aching in his chest. He had been binding frequently lately; his ribcage was most likely just protesting his poor decisions. He would simply remove the article in between films, and everything would be fine. The ache, however, kept growing, reaching out from his chest into his stomach, his limbs, his jaw, his eyes, his brain. Bill glanced over, head tilted, and Wirt waved him off. He just needed to take a break from the binder for a few days, that was all. His eyes began to burn and the screen blurred and his hands began to shake and clutch so tightly at the mug that hairline fractures appeared on it, and Wirt finally began to admit to himself that something may, in fact, be horribly wrong. 

 

“Hey, Wirt. Can you look at me?” a soft voice cut through his thoughts. Wirt blinked, his eyes still clouded, but managed to make out a yellow and black blur in front of him. The mug of tea was gently extracted from his hands, and he was pulled down into someone’s side as a hand began to run through his hair and another one grabbed his own hand. 

 

“Okay, I think I know what’s going on, but I need you to listen, okay?” Wirt nodded. “You were muttering about Greg. Who is Greg?” Wirt’s throat closed up, and the blur sighed. “I know who Greg is, Wirt. I was asking for you. You’re repressing, and you need to let it all out.” Wirt shook his head, and the blur sighed again before picking Wirt up from the couch. “You’re going to take a nap, and we’ll talk about this later, okay Tree Boy?” Wirt tried to protest, to leave, to stop Bill (he knew what was coming and he didn’t want this-), but with a simple kiss on the forehead, Wirt was asleep, spiralling slowly downward into his dream world. 

 

He landed in the forest, sunlight streaming through the branches and warming his skin. Wirt glanced around, brow furrowed in confusion. Why was he here? 

 

“Hey Wirt!” a cheery voice chirped. Wirt’s blood chilled and he spun around to face a beaming six-year old with a teapot on his head and an intelligent frog in his arms. Greg. Images flashed through Wirt’s mind, of Greg wrapped in edelwood, of Greg almost drowning, of Greg almost dying over and over and it was  _ all Wirt’s fault _ \- 

 

“I’m glad you found some friends to take care of you while I try to find you,” Greg continued. Wirt stopped breathing. What… what had Greg just said? “I’m not giving up on you, Wirt, but I’m glad you have someone to take care of you while I’m not there.” 

 

“... what do you mean?” Wirt whispered. Greg was dead, wasn’t he? He… he had killed his younger brother, hadn’t he? 

 

“I mean we’re getting close! I met these other really nice people— Mabel, she’s looking for her twin, and Bubba and Marshall, they’re looking for this person named Fionna— and we’re coming to find you! But I know I can’t be here, and I know you’re doing the Wirt Thing where you blame yourself and ignore your feelings. But you have people who will make sure you don’t do that!” Greg began to fade away at the edges, and his smile turned sad. “I love you, Wirt. I’ll see you soon.” 

 

“Wait! Greg! Don’t go! I’m sorry!” Wirt yelped, lunging forward. He collided with the ground and let out a sob before- 

  
“Wirt! Wake up!” Finn yelled. Wirt shot upright, gasping, crying, shaking, and was wrapped in a cold embrace. Finn whispered soothing words into his ear as Wirt cried, rocking him back and forth. “You’re fine, Wirt, it’s okay, it’ll all be okay.” 

  
  
“Wirt, we’re here, okay? Just let it all out,” Bill’s voice soothed before Wirt was wrapped into another hug. And there, Wirt fell asleep again, in the arms of his friends— no,  _ family _ . The three of them had a long road ahead of them, of course, but Bill and Finn promised, in that moment, that they would make sure Wirt was okay. No matter what. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed! Yes, this is becoming a series
> 
> ~Logan


End file.
